


Something For Nothing

by Lavendermagik



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M, POV Second Person, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2020-06-24 20:24:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19731136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavendermagik/pseuds/Lavendermagik
Summary: Steve says this ball of awkward and anxiety can help straighten Bucky's head out. Bucky isn't so sure.Sorry, that was misleading. Bucky is a surly nightmare with trust issues who's lucky you have the patience of a saint.





	1. Something for Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> Preface: I posted this once, and due to inexplicable technical issues it was a ginormous mess with random italicizing. I panicked and destroyed it immediately. So if you get a sense of déjà vu, you might have been one of the brave souls to slog through this monster the first time. Hopefully this go 'round will be more successful and not cause me such distress.

Bucky came back slowly, the ice receding but the chill lingering on his skin. At first there was panic. Who were they sending him after this time? Who was his body going to kill while he watched impotently? But there was none of the familiar blankness as he came fully awake, none of the stiffness in his muscles as they automatically stood at attention waiting for their orders. And there was Steve, standing a few steps away watching him attentively with a hesitant smile.

“Welcome back." His long-time friend's tone was cautious and even, as if preemptively soothing an inevitable panic attack.

“What’s going on? Why am I awake?” Bucky’s eyes darted around the room, taking in the many bodies in white coats doing various things he couldn’t venture to guess about. A guard stood by the door dressed from head to toe in some kind of tactical suit, probably part of an elite force and positioned there in case the Winter Soldier decided to make an appearance. His eyes shot back to Steve. “Have they figured out how to undo the programming?”

“Not exactly.” Now Steve looked guilty, and Bucky grew suspicious.

“What do you mean? You know it’s too dangerous for me to be out here when my head’s so screwed up.”

“Yeah, I know, safer for everyone if you go under. I remember.” He was just short of sarcastic, and that had Bucky’s eyes narrowing. “The thing is, I think we found something that could help.”

“But you said-”

“It’s not exactly something the scientists came up with.” Steve stepped to the side and turned, revealing your huddled form. Your eyes were flitting around all of the activity in the room like you found so much movement overwhelming. Your hands were shoved deep in the pockets of your jacket, your shoulders hunched and elbows drawn close to your body as if you were trying to make yourself small enough to go unnoticed. When you saw the two men had turned their attention to you, you made an expression that might have been a smile except it was too quick and too uncomfortable to tell for sure.

“Who’s she?”

Steve waited, but apparently you didn’t pick up on your cue to introduce yourself. “She has the ability to access people’s minds when she touches them.”

“Access their minds?”

“We found her after she grabbed a guy and made him forget he was robbing a bank.”

“Wait – you brought me back because you want to let some strange woman with magic powers have a field day in my brain?” He tried not to feel bad when you flinched and shrank even more into yourself at his harsh tone. You seemed terrified by his mere presence, which, he thought bitterly, proved you were at least halfway intelligent. He presented a pretty intimidating aura, with his missing limb, unkempt appearance, and voice gruff from disuse.

“We’ll be monitoring everything the whole time. We won’t let her do anything you don’t want.” Steve took a step closer and leaned in imploringly. “I’ve seen her work, Bucky. This is the first shot we’ve had in a long time. Isn’t it worth trying?”

“You trust her?”

“I do.”

“How do you know she isn't already in your head forcing you to trust her?”

“She has to make physical contact for her powers to work. We took a whole team to pick her up, and recorded everything. You think I jumped into this without any precautionary measures?” He was being sarcastic again, stupid punk. He still had faith in people, was able to trust so easily. He hadn’t spent years analyzing every person as a potential threat, hadn’t woken up one day to realize he had an entire life torn from his memory and wiped out. “Look, why don’t we all sit down and talk about it? You got enough feeling back to stay up if we unstrap you?”

You still hadn’t said a word by the time Bucky found himself sitting on an exam table while some scientist or doctor checked his vitals to verify the latest cryogenic freeze wasn’t leaving any lasting effects. You trailed behind and hovered, like you were unsure whether you should follow or not. Bucky watched your elbows press even tighter against your sides when Steve approached you to say something quiet enough he couldn't make out. You pulled your lips between your teeth and nodded, allowing the super soldier to lead you over to where the scientist/doctor was finishing up.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Barnes,” you said after introductions had been made, clearing your throat when your voice cracked. “Steve thought it might help make you more comfortable if I explained what I can do.”

Bucky stared at you in silence, not even bothering to react when he heard his friend let out a deep sigh of irritation. Your eyes flashed to Steve uncertainly, and he must have made some kind of gesture to continue.

“When I touch someone, it’s like their mind becomes a physical space I’m transported to – kind of like a dream, but a really lucid one… that I’m sharing with another person. I can see memories, thoughts, feelings – and I can change or erase them. I haven’t tried creating something new. I don’t think I could make anything complex enough to pass as real. The person I’m touching can see and feel everything I do. From what I understand, it’s a very weird experience but not painful in any way.”

Bucky still didn’t speak, and he took perverse pleasure in watching you get more and more nervous. Steve, however, was not amused. “Buck-”

“Mr. Barnes,” you interrupted before Steve could really get going, “I know that you have every reason not to trust a stranger with your mind – I wouldn’t, and I’ve not had near the trauma you’ve experienced. But I truly do want to help you if I can. You’ll still have full control of yourself, and with a firm enough thought you’ll be able to expel me easily. Or Steve can pull me out by breaking our physical connection. This feels dangerous to you, but isn’t living free from Hydra’s control over you worth the risk?”

He contemplated you in continued silence, watching you squirm and break eye contact now that your little speech was complete.

“Come on, Buck,” Steve’s quiet plea finally broke Bucky’s attention away from you. His earnest face and pleading blue eyes made Bucky regret looking at all. “Give her a chance.”

“Fine,” ended up being the first word Bucky Barnes ever spoke to you, short and almost growled. It seemed to throw you off balance for a moment, like you hadn't prepared yourself for his acceptance.

“Okay, um… then you’re going to need a different seat.”

“Right this way, if you please.” Another young woman appeared. Shuri – he'd met her briefly before going back under. Bucky glanced at Steve, who nodded while still looking ever-so-serious, and so he allowed Shuri to lead him to what looked like a chair from some science fiction space movie. It caused him pause, but only for a moment. This chair didn’t have any visible restraints, nothing at all that appeared threatening. Still, he lowered himself cautiously, and then almost jumped back out again when it rose up unexpectedly.

“Not to worry – that is the extent of this ride.” Shuri was smiling, and he realized with a bit of a shock that she was teasing him, legendary assassin that he was.

Despite her assurances, Bucky still tensed when the chair began to glow. “Why do I have to sit here?”

“We will need to monitor your vital signs throughout the process.” She waved a slender hand in the air and multiple screens appeared showing everything from his heart rate to his temperature to what looked like a three dimensional model of his brain.

“A chair can do that?”

“Here it can.”

"It'll also show them if I go somewhere I shouldn't.” You hesitantly approached his side as if still gauging your welcome. He watched your body grow even tenser at the new proximity; still, you lifted your hands toward his face, slowly so he could see and grow used to the idea. The raised height of the chair meant you didn’t have to bend over in order to reach. "Remember, this is going to feel weird, though you're probably more used to-, er... just, um, say if you want me to stop, or even think it and I'll know. Are you ready?"

He nodded once – you were so awkward he unconsciously slowed his own movement, as if you were the unstable one who needed careful handling. With a final deep breath you pressed your fingertips to his temples, the heat of your palms over his ears. Everything was still for a beat, then two, and then it all exploded into chaos.

The room disappeared, replaced by a never ending miasma of scenes and faces and dates and nonsensical streams of words and death, so much death, with swirls of colors filling in any spaces between. The sheer expanse overwhelmed him, and he was struggling to remember how he was supposed to make it stop when everything suddenly cleared on its own. Momentarily still confused, he tried to assess his surroundings, taking in the four walls of the lab and Steve's intensely concerned expression. It took him an embarrassing amount of time to find you collapsed against him, half across his lap with one arm thrown over his shoulder in an attempt at balance as you gasped like you'd broken the surface of water after a near drowning. Your forehead was pressed to the sweaty fabric of his tank top so that he could feel your desperate breaths against his chest. Only after acknowledging all of this did he realized he'd automatically brought his own hand to your shoulder to keep you upright.

Bucky shot Steve a look he knew was near-wild, and then Steve was there pulling your body away and wrapping his arms around you almost protectively while asking, "Are you okay?" with his gaze bouncing between his friend and your almost unconscious state to the point Bucky wasn't sure whom he was questioning. Shuri was attending to the myriad of screens, now flashing with various warnings accompanied by frantic beeping.

You were leaning heavily against Steve with your face half-turned into his chest, his hold the only thing preventing your collapse. You held your hands in front of you as if warning everyone else away. Bucky watched your eyelids drag upwards so that your eyes could meet his, and in them he saw a whole renewed fear. This familiar expression brought back some sense, and he muttered gruffly, "You should get her out of here."

"Buck-"

"Go. I'm fine."

It was plain to see that Steve wanted to argue – as plain as the fact that Bucky most certainly was not fine. But his friend gave in despite his obvious reservations and turned to lead you out of the room into the relative quiet of the hallway.

Shuri finally silenced the machines. She asked him a few questions about how he was physically feeling, and then asked if she could get him anything. She was young and kind and so opposite to what he'd just experienced in his own mind that he only wanted her to leave – to get far away from him before he could break her. She must have realized he wasn’t feeling chatty, because she continued working quietly and then took her leave when Steve returned. Alone, thankfully. Bucky could still picture the terror on your face clearly without the reminder.

"She okay?" he asked, staring fixedly at the floor.

"She says she is. She's more worried about you." Steve frowned when Bucky snorted, but continued without comment. "I told her we'd wait until tomorrow before trying again."

Now he had Bucky's attention. "Try again? You can't make her do that! Didn't you see how terrified she was?"

"I'm not making her do anything. It was her idea. I was ready to take her home, but she's not having it."

The amount of time that Bucky went without blinking must have been unnerving. Eventually, he forced out, "Why? Why would she do that to herself?"

It was bad enough that he had to live with whatever was broken inside his head – why should you?

Steve shrugged. "I guess she doesn't want to leave you with whatever she saw."

"But why?" Bucky growled insistently. "What is she getting out of this?" A thought struck him, and he narrowed his eyes at Steve quizzically. "You two got something going?"

"No," Steve was obviously exasperated but still managed to project patience. "She's just here to help you."

"Nobody does something for nothing."

"Maybe not in the world you've lived in," Steve sighed deeply, suddenly looking very tired. "Give it another chance, okay? Please?"

"Fine," Bucky relented, though the whole thing weighed on him heavily, "put me back under until she's ready to go again."

"No, Bucky, going in and out of cryo like that would be too hard on your body. You really that worried something'll go wrong overnight?"

Bucky tried not to get mad at Steve, he really did. It wasn't his fault that he couldn't understand what it was like living with a mind that was a carnival funhouse without the fun, one that could snap at any moment leading to widespread destruction.

"You gonna be okay?" Steve's voice broke through Bucky's morbid web of thoughts again.

"Yeah… but I think I need to be alone for a while."

"Are you sure? You just-"

"I'm sure. I need some time to process everything on my own."

"All right..." Steve didn't sound entirely convinced, but Bucky was feeling overstimulated as it was and needed some quiet to sort himself out. "You remember where your room is?"

Bucky nodded, and with a reluctant sigh Steve finally left him. He sucked in a deep breath and held it, taking note of how each individual part of his body felt. The tingles from cryo hadn't completely gone away yet, and the phantom twinges in his absent left arm probably never would. He ran his hand through his hair, tugging slightly just for the feel of it. He'd wanted time to process everything, but he wasn't even sure where to start.

He thoughts strayed back to the look on your face after you'd seen into his mind. How could Steve still be surprised that Bucky was safer cryogenically frozen? You'd merely _visited_ his madness and were terrified – he had to live with it constantly.

Bucky finally decided he would be better off in a dark room away from all this scary looking equipment. He leveraged himself out of the space chair and made for the door, twisting a little in an attempt to stretch the knots in his back. The hall was deserted and so still compared to the frenzy of activity prior. He almost walked past the next doorway without pause, but then he came to a full stop when he caught sight of you. You were fast asleep in a chair, turned to the side so you could curl against its back. Your feet still rested on the floor, so this impromptu nap was probably unintentional.

He watched you without moving for a few minutes, deciding if he should do something – wake you up so you could move to a more comfortable location, or at least tell someone you were still there. In the end he merely clenched his jaw and left you where you were. You were a big girl, and if you thought yourself able to contend with the demons in his mind, surely you could manage your own relocation. He didn't notice the elite guard standing in the corner of the room until that moment – the man, whoever he was, could stand still enough to pass for a statue. It would appear his purpose was protecting you and not subduing Bucky as he initially thought. He gave the man a cursory nod, knowing how tedious sentinel duty could be, and then he continued on his journey to find his room.

He didn't sleep much that night, the bed too soft and his anxieties too sharp. The light of morning seemed to come unnaturally slowly, but when it did he wasn't sure what to do with himself. Should he return to the lab? Should he go find breakfast? Should he track down Steve?

In the end he was saved from making that decision by a knock at the door that revealed his friend, along with you who still stood a few steps behind like you were waiting to be invited. Your posture was the same as the previous day, hands shoved deep in your pockets, but when you caught him looking at you, you smiled even though you seemed like you weren't sure you should. He didn't smile back, and you looked away quickly. The black-suited guard stood several paces behind.

Breakfast was a quiet affair. Steve would try to strike up a conversation, but neither of his companions were capable of supporting the attempt, and it would quickly fizzle out. Throughout the meal Bucky continued to surreptitiously observe you. Your chair was an unusual distance away from Steve's considering you obviously had some kind of friendly relationship. When someone brought you food, you deliberately avoided where he or she held the plate. Once Steve asked you to pass the salt, and you merely set it near his hand. Your excessive avoidance of physical contact made Bucky wonder if you couldn't control your powers, if any touch at all would send you into a person's mind.

For the second session you were given your own chair to sit in, probably in case of another collapse. Steve took up position a short distance away to one side, and your bodyguard mirrored him on the other. The jump wasn't quite as jarring now that he knew what to expect, but that was like saying a train wreck was less jarring than a plane crash. The overwhelming turmoil surrounded him, trying to blot out everything real. However, this time he was more aware – he could feel you there, too. You were attempting to sort through the disarray, to pull out one thing and find a place to start, but every time you got a handhold it was wrenched away from you. Still you held on, trying again and again as he felt your exhaustion mounting.

Eventually, he couldn't take it anymore, couldn’t take the wear on his own person or the feel of your stamina waning, and so he did what you'd said and thought strongly about expelling you. The next thing he knew he was once again in the clean, orderly room, your hands inches away from his face. You were leaning heavily against the back of the chair, and your face was so sallow he thought you were about to be sick. Slowly you pulled your arms back to yourself, one hand going to play with the drawstring of your jacket.

"Any luck?" Steve's voice was much too loud, the vibrations rattling through Bucky's skin to his bones.

"It's... it's chaotic," you offered, glancing at Bucky as if afraid to insult him. "I've not run up against anything so complicated before. It's hard to figure out where to go. I think... I think this is going to take some time."

You weren't wrong. Attempts were made every day for almost two weeks. Every time you thought you might have a handle on the situation, it would go spiraling out of control again. He could see the toll it was taking on you, how each day you looked more worn out than the one before. But still you refused to stop, pushing harder every time until he would force you out when he knew you were on the verge of complete exhaustion. Again he wondered why you were doing this, pushing yourself to the brink for someone you didn't even know.

After one session that felt particularly awful and left you panting, you fixed him with an appraising look. "Mr. Barnes, would you mind if we spoke privately?"

You still called him Mr. Barnes, even after all this time. It was weird, but he never bothered to correct you. ‘Bucky’ seemed far too friendly for whatever relationship you had, and he wasn’t sure his sergeant designation still applied.

Bucky's eyes went to Steve, and he found his friend standing at attention, waiting to jump into action depending on what Bucky's answer was. "I guess not."

You stood and stepped away from both men, moving to the side so Steve could come get your chair and carry it across the room. Bucky noted the great distance you'd created and wondered what Steve was doing. He figured it out when Steve made to leave and you quietly requested, "Can you mute the sound on the cameras, too, please?"

You were taking every precaution to ensure no one would be able to accuse you of using your powers without permission. Bucky hadn't even realized there were cameras in the room. He had to concede that he was impressed by the forethought, was even a little appreciative, but he didn't let it show. Sure, you consented to these safety precautions, but you still had abilities that could be far too easily abused. And he knew all you needed was the right set of circumstances to abuse them, no matter how genuine you may or may not be.

With Steve out of the room, you settled down into your chair once more and regarded Bucky across the chasm you had put between you and him. "Mr. Barnes, I need to ask you a question, and I thought you might feel more comfortable without anyone else hearing."

"Okay," he responded stonily.

"Why are you fighting me?" You didn't sound angry or even irritated – simply curious and maybe a little concerned.

"I'm not fighting you. I've let you do this every day for weeks."

"You let me in, but that's as far as it goes. You might not even realize that you're resisting me,” you said almost to yourself, like a scientist with an interesting hypothesis. “It might be an automatic defense mechanism from whatever... programing you went through. It's understandable. I'm an invading force, and the natural response would be to defend yourself."

"Or maybe you're not as good as you think you are." He wasn’t your science project. He wasn't going to be anyone's science project ever again.

He watched your lips press together for a moment before you continued. "I don't know if you know this, but when I'm connected to a person it's not only memories of the past I access. I hear and see current thoughts as well. The stronger the thought the louder it is. Your loudest thoughts are always about how dangerous you are, how unforgivable the things you've done, how you'd be better off back in cryo. I just wonder... is there a chance that you're fighting against my help because you don't feel you deserve to get better?"

The silence stretched thin as he stared at you, watched you become more uncomfortable the longer he went without blinking. Your hands were clasped tightly in your lap, but he could still see the minute movements of you squeezing them in order to ground yourself.

"Are you a psychiatrist now, too?" He should probably feel guilty about his poor attitude, but his distrust of you and what you could do made everything he said sound harsh.

"No," you replied quietly. Your hands shifted again, and then your lips tilted with the barest hint of a smile. "Though once upon a time I thought I could be. That's not really an option anymore. My point is we're not going to make any progress as long as your mind resists, and I don't think it's going to stop resisting until you accept that you are worthy of the help. You don't need to keep beating yourself up with the memories of what you did under Hydra's control."

"And what would you know about what I've done?" He was becoming angrier now at your surety and arrogance. You didn't know him – how _dare_ you try to tell him what he deserved? "Did you read my file? See my kill count? Marvel at all the infamous assassinations where no culprit was ever apprehended?" He was too amped up to remain sitting, and a part of him enjoyed having a height advantage, even across a room. "You know what a file can't tell you? How much blood can pour out a human in a very short amount of time. What a person sounds like screaming in unimaginable pain, begging for their life, sometimes alone, sometimes while their families looked on, sometimes their children. The feeling of a man's neck under your hand after you've snapped it. I have spent decades doing nothing but ruining people's lives, and you think you can sit there and tell me when to stop feeling guilty? Who do you think you are?"

"Don't!" You threw both your hands up in a gesture of surrender, and only then did he realize he'd been slowly stalking forward like some kind of predator. He halted abruptly, blinked away the nightmarish visions that danced behind his eyes. You were still watching him like he might pounce at any moment. He half expected Steve to come bursting in to restrain him, but the door remained shut. You didn't lower your hands. "If you get too close they'll need to run tests to determine if I've influenced you."

"What tests?" His heart rate was still elevated, but he felt some of his anger get pushed aside by genuine curiosity.

"Brain scans. What I do tends to leave a mark. But it's an arduous process, and I really don't want to be locked up until its completion."

"Locked up?"

"More like grounded to my room. It would be dangerous to let me walk around freely if I've implanted some kind of idea in your mind."

He stood there paused for a multitude of seconds, and then he took two steps back. You slowly lowered your hands, and he realized you'd been clearly showing the cameras that you weren't making contact. You swallowed, and then said, "I think... it would be a good idea to take a break for a few days."

"Fine." He always seemed to use that word with you.

"Just... please don't ask Steve to put you back in cryo. It hurts him every time you bring it up."

"You getting in his head, too?"

"I don't need to get in his head when he wears it on his face."

You waved at the camera, and the man in question came into the room. Through the now open door Bucky caught a glimpse of the guard that was always somewhere in your vicinity. Pieces snapped together, and he understood that the man was not here for your protection – rather, he was a constant presence so that you wouldn't be able to use your powers unnoticed. With every inch of his skin covered, you would not be able to make the contact you required for your ability to work. He thought about what that must be like and felt the stirrings of empathy before he sternly quashed them. You chose to be here. You could leave anytime. If you didn't like being constantly watched then that was on you.

He didn't see you very much over the next few days. He'd half expected you to be following Steve around like you'd been doing since he'd first caught sight of you. The good captain seemed to be the only person you really knew. But you never appeared, and Bucky wondered if the absence was for his own benefit or yours.

As for Bucky, he kept mostly to himself. Even Steve's presence was too much sometimes. All Bucky had to do was ask for something, and the very helpful staff in this joint would provide anything he could possibly desire. They found him books and gave him a laptop (Wakandan internet speed was ridiculously fast). He spent a lot of time in his room, but when that would get too confining he'd go for walks in the more deserted areas of the palace grounds. Days passed into weeks like this, and always at the back of his mind warred two questions: how long could he hold on to his control and when would you appear and demand access to his brain again. 

Okay, so you wouldn’t demand. You barely had enough starch in you to ask politely.

Bucky wasn't sure what caused him to investigate the noises he heard; usually he avoided as much interaction as possible. Maybe it sounded too much like a scuffle, or maybe he could depict an aggressive undertone to the murmurings though he couldn't pick apart the words. He rounded the corner almost imperceptibly, and found you being backed into a wall by your ever-present guard.

"You may have our king and his American friends fooled, but I am not. I will no longer allow you to exert your dark influence over Wakanda."

"I'm not... _exerting_ anything. I don't mean any harm."

"Your mere presence brings harm! Your existence is an offense to the gods, one I will eradicate to win their favor." He advanced slowly, as if he enjoyed a helpless woman's cowering, and produced a dagger, the metal making a sickening noise as it rubbed its sheath.

"Please don't do this." You may have been pressed to the wall like you might disappear through it, but your voice was impressively steady for the situation.

"I will send you to hell where you belong, demon spawn!" He lunged forward, and Bucky moved automatically. He caught hold of the attacker's wrist and twisted brutally until the weapon clattered to the floor. Then he released his grip to grab hold of the man's throat and pin him to the wall before any of you could really comprehend what was happening. Nails scratched ineffectually at Bucky's wrist, but he could hardly acknowledge the feeling as irritating let alone painful.

"Mr. Barnes?" You questioned, voice hardly above a whisper and body still supported by the wall at your back. Your eyes flitted between him and your former assailant, now much smaller when overshadowed by Bucky's impressive stature.

Bucky shifted his grip to the bottom of his captive's mask and yanked it off none-too-gently, revealing a face full of hatred tinged with growing fear. His opponent tried to break away, but Bucky rammed his shoulder into the man's breastbone and pinned him a second time by the throat. "He's all yours," he growled, furthering the intimidation by staring the man down.

"What?" you breathed, apparently still in some state of shock. He met and held your eyes, saw a new kind of fear growing in them.

"Make him forget who you are, make him forget who he is, whatever."

"I... I don't..." You backed away, causing Bucky's brows to pinch a little in confusion. "I don't want to do that."

"Why?" The word came out sharper than Bucky intended, as did everything he said in the wake of any attempt to understand you.

"It would only confirm for him what he already thinks. I've never wanted to force anyone to do or think anything. Now that you've removed the threat he posed, using what I can do..." You trailed off and looked down at you hand, flexing it for a moment before stuffing the appendage into your pocket and meeting his gaze again. "It would be wrong. He has a right to hate me if he wants to – it's his choice." 

Bucky could only stare at you. What you said made no tactical sense. This man wished to kill you, could come back and do just that, but you refused to do something as harmless as removing that intention from his thoughts. Bucky's unwavering gaze seemed to make you uncomfortable, and your eyes fell away as you began shifting from foot to foot.

Before Bucky could point out how naïve you were being, a guard appeared at the end of the hall, surprise filling his expression at the scene. You saw the newcomer as well, and said something quietly in what was assumably Wakandan as he neared, the words stilted and strange in your accent. The guard nodded and relieved Bucky of your assailant, clapping on restraints and making to drag him away.

"Your pretty words do not fool me, little witch." The man glared, still aggressive even when helplessly bound and headed for a cell. "I know your true heart, the wickedness inside you. Soon others will see as well, and you will be unable to hide any longer."

Bucky watched your eyes close, body tense and face angled towards the floor under the man's continued assault in both English and Wakandan. The curses he spit could still be heard long after his presence was removed from the hall.

"Why did you do that? Why did you let him go?"

"I told you – it wouldn't be right.”

“What wouldn’t be right? Protecting yourself? What if he comes back? What if I'm not around to fight your battles next time?" Bucky expected you to get angry or at least affronted that he'd implied you were too weak to take care of yourself. Instead you merely stared at him contemplatively, lips pressed tight.

"You don't trust me, do you, Mr. Barnes?" You finally asked, though it was more of a statement. Bucky blinked a few times, but otherwise didn't react. Your calm tone coupled with the abrupt change in conversation had him thrown. "I know you don't because nothing else would make sense. I'm the least trustworthy person there is. Even if someday you started to feel like you did, there would always be that question of whether or not I forced you into it. The only way I can think to gain any amount of trust is to only use what I can do responsibly, and only in extreme circumstances.”

"You left him alone so I would trust you?"

"I left him alone because I don't _like_ altering people's thoughts without their consent. And the only way I'm ever going to get along with anyone is to show them that. I never wanted to be able to do this – I never wanted to be able to do anything extraordinary. I wasn't the kid who sat around wishing for superpowers. But then I saw an infomercial for fish oil tablets, and now I'm mildly telepathic and no one can feel safe whenever I'm around. I didn't ask to be dangerous, but if a lion doesn't eat a person for a while, he might feel more comfortable sleeping next to it, right?"

Bucky couldn't think of anything to say to that. You seemed to make less sense the more worked up you got.

"Sorry, that was a stupid analogy. Who would ever feel safe sleeping next to a lion? Anyway, what really matters is you saved my life, and I don't think I've thanked you for that yet. So thank you.”

He might have had something else to say, but then a new voice was calling out. King T’Challa jogged down the hall to reach you, face awash with concern. “I have been informed of tonight's altercation. Are the two of you all right?”

“Yes, thanks to him.” You glanced briefly at Bucky, hands shoved even deeper into your pockets. “Should we go through the procedure now?”

Procedure?

“There is no need. The man attacked you within full view of the security camera. We have all the evidence we need to prove you wielded no power tonight.”

Your shoulders relaxed, and Bucky realized the procedure must be the lock down and brain scans you mentioned right before you suggested a break in his sessions with you.

“I apologize for the negligence on my part that allowed such a man access to you.”

“You couldn’t know, your highness.”

“I will assign one of the Dora Milaje to you first thing in the morning. Until then, I am afraid I must request you stay in your room.”

“I understand. Thank you.”

Even Bucky didn’t think that sounded fair. You had done nothing wrong, and still you were being subjected to an essential imprisonment.

“I will escort you.” T’Challa pressed at something around his neck and was soon encased in his Black Panther suit.

“Good night, Mr. Barnes. Thank you again for the rescue. I’m sorry you had to do it.”

You gave him something resembling a smile and turned to go. T’Challa inclined his head in acknowledgment before following. Then Bucky was alone again, except for a nagging feeling that he was missing something big.

He didn’t see you again for another few days, and even then you managed to startle him, yelling down the hall for Steve as you came hurtling towards them with a new guard (this one obviously female under her full body armor) jogging behind.

You pulled to a stop, nearly running straight into the man you'd been hailing. You were breathless but grinning, cheeks flushed and eyes actually sparkling. "Steve, it's done!"

"Really?"

"Yes, and it's _amazing_. The design, the functionality – the scientists here are absolutely brilliant, and Shuri must be a certifiable genius. I think T'Challa could take over the world if he wanted to."

"Let's not give him any ideas." Steve smiled fondly at the overexcited woman, and Bucky had to wonder again at what might be there. But then what about that Sharon Steve had been kissing? The punk may have changed some over the years, but he still didn't seem capable of handling two women at once.

"Do you want to come see?"

Steve glanced at Bucky, which immediately set him on edge. What were you two talking about and what did it have to do with him? You noticed the look, and your enthusiasm was immediately eclipsed with reproach. "Did you not mention anything to him? Steve!"

"Mention what?" Bucky didn't appreciate being talked about.

"I'll show you, if you want," you offered carefully, hands moving to link behind your back in yet another demonstration of restraint. He wondered if you even knew you did it anymore.

He didn't answer right away. Even before the fall from that train which jump started the worst decades of his life, he hadn't been a big fan of surprises. And Steve hadn't wanted to say anything to him, which didn't bode well. But you were extremely happy about whatever it was, and expected his friend to be, too, so how bad could it possibly be?

"All right," he agreed just as carefully, and then wanted to scoff at the both of you, acting like you were passing a bomb back and forth.

The two former soldiers followed you (and your guard) through a myriad of hallways to what appeared to be a research lab. And at its center, displayed prevalently, was a shining metal arm. Bucky ran into Steve as he took a step back, his immediate reaction to run from the image of something that had caused so much pain. 

You apparently saw the panic in his eyes, and held your hands up, this time in a placating gesture. "Please, wait. This isn't like your old one – no part of it came from any of the men who hurt you. It has never been used to cause pain or destruction. This is a brand new tool that can be put to whatever purpose you choose. You can make it good, Mr. Barnes. At the very least, it can make your life much easier.”

"I don't-"

"Come on, Buck, you can't even tie the drawstring on your pants."

Bucky glared at Steve – that's not something you say in front of a pretty girl. Not that... not that he spent a lot of time thinking you were pretty. There was no crime in recognizing an attractive setup though. He wasn't blind. Or dead. Just because you could stir his brain around like soup didn't mean he couldn't see how nice you'd look doing it.

But none of that was relevant at this point. There was a brand new arm in front of him, and two people looking at him expectantly. He flexed his remaining hand, thought about how difficult adjusting to having only one had been. He thought you were exaggerating when you said he could make it good, but if he was going to be stuck here for the rest of his life while you failed to sort out his madness, he might as well have two working arms.

"One condition," he announced into the silence wrought with anticipation. "I want it to have a kill switch."

"Absolutely not-"

"Not for me." Bucky knew better than to ask his best friend for a way to end his life. "For the arm. I want you to be able to shut it down if something goes wrong."

If something went wrong and he went on another rampage that ended in injury and death.

"It wouldn't be hard," you mentioned hesitantly. "I could whip something up in about ten minutes if you wanted to wait."

Steve looked at you and then back at Bucky. Then he heaved a sigh. "Okay."

You were over at the table again in a flash, slipping on safety glasses and pair of gloves and picking up some kind of fancy tool. Bucky, for lack of anything else to do, moved over to watch as you bent down at the arm's top and started tinkering inside.

"I thought you wanted to be a psychiatrist."

You apparently hadn't heard his approach. You jumped, muttered out a 'shoot' followed by a 'no, no, it's okay', and then replied at a more normal volume, "I thought I might want to be, but my parents were paying for college and wanted me to go into something more practical, so I picked electrical engineering. Biomedical would have come in more handy right now, but I never really imagine myself doing anything like this."

"What did you imagine?" He spent so much time viewing you as a conundrum, a potential threat he couldn’t understand, that he hadn’t bothered wondering if you had an actual life outside of this place.

"Mm, I don't know... I ended up working for an appliance company. Well, I did work for an appliance company. I have a feeling they've terminated my contract by now. I had an unfortunate run in with the CEO of all people right after I gained my abilities."

"You haven't always been like this?"

"No, thankfully. I can't imagine trying to make it through childhood doing... you know, what I can do. Some alien substance got into the water supply of some fish they used to make fish oil supplements. I take one pill, go to shake the CEO's hand, and all of sudden I'm seeing him fire his secretary because she caught him embezzling. After the way the man looked at me, I ran out and never went back."

Well, that explained your comment about the infomercial.

"Wait, alien like..."

"From outer space alien. Not like a baguette or something got in the ocean and gave me magic powers."

Steve snorted, and you shot him a thankful smile for laughing at your feeble joke. Seriously, what was going on between you and him?

With a pleased hum you announced, “That oughta do it. It was already set up to transmit signals so diagnostics could be run remotely, so all I had to do was set one up as a receiver. You can choose a code that only you and Steve will know, and then all he’ll have to do is log on to a computer or cell phone with Wi-Fi to render the arm inert. Then you should be able to reactivate it by entering the same code. I could also design some sort of watch maybe? Something that you could have on you all the time in case of emergency.”

You began to remove your gloves, but as you did so you also walked around to the far side of the table, putting space and a physical object in between you and the two soldiers. Bucky wondered why you didn’t leave the gloves on, why you didn’t wear some kind of gloves all the time. Before he could mention it, you asked, “So what do you say, Mr. Barnes? You want to give it a spin?”

“It’s that easy?”

“Well, no… I think there’s going to be some sort of operative procedure required. You’re probably going to want to be put under anesthesia.”

“That’ll be a problem – normal anesthetics don’t work on me. My body expels them as quickly as they’re administered. I doubt the doctors here have access to whatever cocktail Hydra used on me.”

“Oh, um… I could… help.”

“You can make my body not reject anesthesia?”

“No, but I can take your mind away where you wouldn’t feel the pain.”

He vaguely remembered someone else who could do that, someone who'd had something to do with planting those trigger words in his head to begin with, and the thought had his muscles itching with anxiety. But he saw no eagerness or ill intentions in your expression at the prospect. In fact, you stood back with an expression almost impressively impassive except for a touch of anxiety as you waited to see what he'd say.

"Okay."

"Really? Do you... want to do it right now?'

"Might as well."

The table wasn't as cold as the ones he was used to. The switch was odd when his life had been so defined by the cold – cold snow, cold chair, cold handlers. But the table was more or less room temperature and as space age as the chair he'd sat in back when you'd had daily sessions together.

And your hands on either side of his head were warmer than anything he'd felt for a long time.

"Ready?"

He nodded. You looked up at Shuri and her team of scientist/doctors, and then at Steve who was obviously concerned but trying to hide it.

The next thing he knew, Steve, along with everyone else, disappeared. Bucky found himself in a shapeless room, the walls running seamlessly into the floor and ceiling (if those were all the appropriate terms). Everything was a dull beige color, as if trying to appear as neutral as possible. The whole place was empty, save for you, who stood on the other side with your hands in the pockets of your jacket, like you were afraid of what you could do even here.

This wasn't his brain – it was too bland, too... calm. "Where are we?"

"My mind. Well, a piece of it anyway."

"Why is it so empty?"

A quick smile made your mouth twitch and the room flashed a bright shade of green for a second, so quickly he thought he might have imagined it.

"I created this section for times like this, or when someone just needs a break. I try to keep it quiet, cordoned off from the rest of the crazy in my head."

He snorted, which seemed like an odd thing to do when this 'body' didn't really exist. "You've been inside my head. I don't think whatever you've got going on can qualify as crazy."

"Everybody has a little crazy. Yours simply happens to be more intense and manmade."

The whole room shuddered violently, nearly knocking the both of you off your feet, another thing he questioned considering the place was in essence imaginary. Now the walls turned yellow for long enough that he knew it wasn't his eyes playing tricks. Everything settled down, and he looked to you for an explanation.

"Sorry, that was my fault. I lost a little of my focus."

"That makes earthquakes?" Was earthquakes the right term? What else would it be called? Mindquakes?

"You're in pain, and your natural defense is to send signals to your brain so that you can take steps to escape whatever is hurting you. Your body is fighting me, so keeping you here is difficult."

"Have you done this before?"

You didn't answer right away, but when you did your voice was softer, less clinical. "Once. A child had been hit by a car. I kept her in here until…" You trailed off, but the rest of your sentence wasn't hard to infer. "The paramedics said there was nothing that could have been done – the internal damage was too much."

The room had become a muted navy blue, and in an effort to pull you away from what was obviously a painful memory, he asked, "Why does it keep changing colors in here?"

The blue melted back into yellow as you pressed your arms tighter to your sides, looking embarrassed. "I have a hard time keeping everything separate, especially things as autonomous as emotions."

Bucky suddenly felt like he was somewhere he shouldn't be, like he was rifling through your underwear drawer. Sure, you'd never been great at hiding your emotions anyway, but being right up inside them seemed incredibly invasive. Why had you volunteered to bring him here?

The yellow faded back to beige as you shrugged. "I guess it's not that big of a deal. I've been told my face is an open book, so I'm sure you've never had trouble reading what I'm feeling."

And you didn't seem to have any trouble reading his mind. Could you hear what he was thinking in here? Another subject change was in order. "How long do you think this will take?"

"I'd say a few hours at least. They have to figure out all the connections to what's left of your previous prosthesis, ensure everything is hooked up properly, make it look pretty..."

He kind of wanted to return your smile, but he didn't. "Can you see what they're doing?"

"Not see really, but kind of sense it? I have an idea of what's going on around me, but not so much a visual." You appeared to be appraising him. "You don't have to be nervous. I've never met a more brilliant group of people than Shuri and the rest of T'Challa's scientists.”

"You spend an awful lot of time telling me how I feel."

"Sorry. I don't mean to overstep my bounds."

You'd kind of crumpled in on yourself again, which made him want to apologize. On the other hand, he still wasn't sure why you were doing so much to try to help him. He realized that now would be the perfect time to demand an answer for that particular question, but before he could open his mouth the room trembled again and he saw your lips tighten. Maybe it wasn't such a good time after all. He really didn't want to wake up in the midst of whatever pain was strong enough to shake your hold.

He didn't say anything for awhile, not wanting to disturb you, but then he noticed the yellow slowly start to bleed into the walls again. That had happened before when you were anxious or embarrassed, and he remembered what the last things you'd both said were. You must be thinking he was angry with you, giving you the silent treatment in retribution for your comment.

“Are you always so nervous?” The question was far too blunt. Didn’t he use to be good at talking to women?

“Yes, actually.” But you were smiling, and the walls faded back to beige, though maybe now with a pinkish tinge. “I have some pretty intense social anxiety, though I don’t think it's the capital ‘S' kind yet.”

“Social anxiety?” The term was unfamiliar.

“People make me nervous, sometimes to the point my brain refuses to play ball anymore. Most people have some amount of social anxiety, because it helps them get along with others which makes evolutionary sense. People with absolutely none are literal psychopaths.” The room turned yellow again, and you looked away. “Sorry, I recently read a book about it.”

“It's…it's fine. Interesting.”

You smiled in a way that said you didn’t believe him, then sort of winced and looked down, jaw clenching.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just…” Your face looked pale, and when you rubbed a sleeve over your forehead he noticed sweat gathering. If this was all in your mind, why were you showing physical reactions at all? “I haven’t had to hold someone in here for this long. And you _really_ don’t want to stay.”

“I'm sorry, I…” he wasn’t sure where to go from there.

“Don’t worry – I’m not taking it personally.” You chuckled, but it sounded strained.

“Maybe we should stop.”

“No, no, that's a bad idea.”

“But you're-"

“I'll be fine.” Despite the words, you slid down until you were sitting against the wall, though he still couldn’t see where the wall began. “But I am going to take a really long nap after this.”

Bucky stood uncertainly for longer than was acceptable, but you didn’t seem to notice in the midst of what were probably breathing exercises. Then he made a decision and took three steps forward before he could change it. He sat down before you and met your surprised eyes. “Does Steve ever talk about before he was frozen?”

You appeared thrown, but still replied, “Sometimes. Mostly he talks about you.”

“Probably because the punk doesn’t want you to know all the embarrassing details. He ever mention the time he threw up at Coney Island?”

Bucky pulled out every story he'd managed to remember about Steve, and when those ran out he made some up. You never questioned, only listened with your head tilted back and your arms wrapped around your knees, laughing at all the right times. He tried so hard, pretending not to notice as you faded more and more into exhaustion.

“Can you tell if they're anywhere close to done yet?”

You closed your eyes and exhaled in a way that seemed to deflate your whole being. “I think we're in the home stretch.”

Bucky wasn’t sure you'd be able to last any longer. You had yet to open your eyes again. But then, what did closing them in here mean anyway? “These aren’t our real bodies, right?”

“Huh uh,” you hummed, shaking your head back and forth once. “Mental projections.”

Hesitantly, he reached his hand out towards yours where it wrapped around your arm. You must have sensed his movement, because your eyes were open in an instant.

“What are you doing?”

He stalled, hand in midair. “I thought… your powers must not work in here.”

He'd thought you might be comforted by a touch you couldn’t have any other time. He'd thought it might help you hold on.

“If you touch me in here we'll be pulled into your mind instead. And I don’t mean to keep telling you how you feel, but I promise you don’t want to go there right now.”

“Oh.” His hand dropped.

“Sorry, I appreciate the thought-“

“No, I shouldn’t have-"

“Sorry.” Your eyes dropped again, like you'd been the one to mess up.

“Why are you apologizing?”

You always seemed to be apologizing.

“Because you were trying to be nice and I made everything awkward.” You sounded so disappointed in yourself.

“You didn’t make it awkward.”

“This doesn’t feel awkward to you?”

“But you didn’t do it.”

“Always feels that way.”

If one thing came out of this operation besides a new arm, it was going to be an awareness of how little he truly knew about you – not only about your abilities or intentions, but who you were as a person. He wanted to ask you questions, but he was afraid making you carry the weight of the conversation would be too taxing. Fortunately, at that moment you took a deep breath and visibly relaxed.

“They're finishing up. You'll be out of here in another minute or two.”

“Good. That's…good.”

“Thank you. For telling me all those stories. They really helped.”

“Thank you for…” he waved his arm at the expanse around you, “all this.”

“I guess I was finally able to do something for you after all.”

Bucky would have replied, but suddenly he was staring at your upside down face hanging in the air above him. He blinked in confusion, wondering at the displacement, before he realized he was back on the operating table. You smiled gently, and then your presence disappeared entirely. He jerked onto his side, panicking the scientist/doctors still milling around him, and craned his neck to see Steve’s arms under your own as you dangled limply. The man must have been hovering behind you the whole time.

“She okay?” Bucky croaked as the other people in the room tried to make him lie flat.

"Just unconscious.”

“Good.” He took a deep breath through his nose and finally relented to the prodding, falling onto his back and closing his eyes. “That's good.”

After all that, Bucky expected to see you around more, but you remained conspicuously absent. He’d thought you'd at least want to inspect his new prosthetic, but instead he got Shuri and a jab about how he could still knock a woman off her feet. He could have asked Steve about you, but he didn’t want to answer any questions about his motives. When were you going to continue with his sessions? Were you waiting for him to come to you?

Then he did go to you, in a way, though he couldn’t really remember it. He'd had to go in for some tweak to his arm, but it had gone wrong. Something about the set up had triggered an uncontrollable and violent reaction from him, the kind of thing he’d been anticipating since he'd come out of cryo. Everything had gone black after the first strike, and the next thing he knew he was waking up on the floor. He felt arms around him, but he was too tired to struggle. After a moment her heard your voice, much closer than normal, so close he could feel it on the skin of his damp forehead. One hand held his flesh forearm against his chest, the other buried its fingers in the hair on the far side of his head. You kneeled on the tile floor, cradling his head to your chest and whispering, “You’re okay, you’re all right,” over and over.

He was sweaty and exhausted, and peripherally he could see sparks flying from equipment he must have destroyed. Where had you come from? How did you manage to get near him? Why wasn’t your touch forcing him to face the maelstrom of his mind?

“Bucky, you in there?” His vision was filled with his crouching friend, earnest face awash with concern.

“Steve?” His voice sound like someone had taken sandpaper to it.

“Hey, buddy, can you tell me your name?”

“Barnes, James Buchanan; Sergeant; 32557038.”

“That works. How are you feeling?”

“Not great,” Bucky groaned and shifted, tried to straighten out his slouched back, but he felt so weighed down. He made to move his left arm and realized the feeling was more literal than he thought. His new arm was a dead weight at his side.

“You think he's okay?” Steve asked, and Bucky was confused until he felt you nod and realized Steve had been addressing you. “Hold on.”

Steve pressed something on his cell phone screen, and Bucky felt a tingling in his shoulder as the arm whirred back to life. The feeling slowly came back, and Bucky groaned again. “Someone want to tell me what I did?”

Steve's face was grim, but his tone was soothing. “You didn’t do anything. Something with your arm triggered a reaction and you broke a few things. No one got hurt.”

Well, that was good at least.

“The kill switch works.”

“You should have seen yourself when your arm went offline.” The jerk was actually smiling a little. “Then you were just mad at it.”

“Shut up. It's heavy.” His senses were still on the verge of overload, so he turned his face away from the light. This also meant towards you, which he didn’t think of until his nose brushed your collarbone through your shirt and you stiffened. “Sorry.”

“It's… it's fine. Don’t worry about it.” Your hand was still tangled in his hair, so he didn’t think you could really make an argument about personal space.

“We're not in my head. Or yours.” Maybe he was stating facts to ground himself. Maybe he needed confirmation that this was real. Maybe he was just making conversation.

“No, I went in and you… you weren’t there.”

He felt you swallow, felt you exhale into his hair, and wondered if you were worried or simply uncomfortable in this moment. “That sounds weird.”

“It was. I haven’t ever been in someone's head when they weren't home. I only stayed long enough to break the loop your brain got stuck in. I didn’t do anything else, scout's honor.”

“Is that what the ‘you’re okay, you're all right’ was all about?”

“Your brain was saying you weren’t, so I had to convince it otherwise.”

“That was dangerous,” he muttered, shooting Steve a look, “getting so close to me when I was like that.”

“What are you glaring at me for? I didn’t tell her to do it. She literally jumped you, Buck.”

“Geez, Steve, don’t say it like that.” You sounded embarrassed, and Bucky could imagine your brain turning yellow, which made him smile a little despite the situation.

“It is an accurate description,” another voice broke in. Shuri. She had been in the lab while he got checked out. He was glad he didn’t hurt her. “You looked like a little spider monkey holding onto a tree during a hurricane.”

“I’m never speaking to either of you again.”

Steve was smiling once more, and held out a hand in Bucky's direction. “How about we get you off this nice lady so she can get a jump on that?”

“Halt.” The command came from a fourth voice Bucky didn’t recognize. Following it revealed your new guard, one of the Dora Milaje. Everyone froze, and then he felt your hands leave him. He shifted enough to see that you’d clasped them behind your head. You were trying to keep your expression neutral, but your eyes were now staring at the nearest wall and all hints of levity had evaporated. Steve moved forward and grabbed Bucky's shoulder, the one farthest from you. Then you sat back on your heels and pushed yourself to you feet, never lowering your hands. Cold air rushed in where the heat of your body had vanished, and Steve moved to support more of Bucky's weight.

“This time the procedure will need to be performed.” The suited warrior said, and you simply nodded.

“Of course.”

“What?” Bucky felt anger bubble up on your behalf. “She stopped me from doing even more damage, and you want to lock her up so you can run some tests?”

Now you were staring at him, all the while with your hands behind your head like you were being arrested. “It's fine, Mr. Barnes-"

“No it's not! I could have killed you, but you put yourself in danger anyway.” He glared at your guard, struggling to get to his feet and failing, then feeling even more foolish. “She didn’t do anything except stop me. She's not controlling me.”

“No offense, Mr. Barnes, but that's what you would say if I was controlling you.” You stood a few feet away now, so you dropped your arms and shoved your hands in your pockets. He didn’t think he’d ever seen you without that jacket. “I understand why we have to do things like this. I’m earning trust, remember?”

“When is it enough? When do you get to stop proving yourself?”

Your eyes dropped, but came back after a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe never. But that's okay, because I want to stay here until we get the programming out of your head. I want you to be safe. So the rest of this doesn’t matter.”

You were locked in your room for four days until they could conclusively prove you hadn’t left anything behind in his brain. He was antsy the whole time, but he tried not to let it show, worried that they might take it as a sign of your influence over him. He wouldn’t be allowed to see you until he was cleared. And he had to see you.

Because he was tired of walking the line of suspicion and trust. Because he could feel his defenses weakening. Because he needed to know, once and for all, what you were about. Because he was finally going to get some answers.

He waited as patiently as he could. He'd recruited Shuri to his cause. She'd made a couple jokes at his expense, but in the end she was always on board for bending a few boundary lines out of shape. Plus, she seemed to have a certain fondness for you. He watched the cameras with the young princess until you exited your room and headed off down the hall, no guard in sight.

“She is permitted to go to the kitchens alone, as we have security cameras monitoring the entire route,” Shuri explained, and Bucky felt himself getting offended on your behalf again. You had to have _permission_ to go somewhere alone.

He knew his sudden appearance would make you jump, but he couldn’t think of a way to avoid it. Besides, maybe putting you on your toes would make getting the truth easier. Still, he didn’t mean to be lurking in the doorway like a deranged axe murderer when you turned from the stove.

“Hohmygosh!” The words came out as one, and your hand slammed over your heart like an overacting teenager in a school play. “S-sorry, I didn’t expect anyone else to be here.”

You were apologizing again. Because _he_ scared _you_.

“I’m making hot chocolate.” You released your heart to point a thumb over your shoulder at the stove. “Do you want some?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I… I thought it would be rude to have it in front of you and not offer you any.” From anyone else that would have been sarcastic, but you only sounded puzzled.

“Not that,” he spat out through gritted teeth, frustrated with your soft edges and his own inability to understand them, and waved vaguely at his head. “This. Why are you trying to help me?”

You blinked, still uncertain. “Steve asked me to.”

“You in love with him?”

“What?” Your face went bright red in moments, and he would have thought he’d guessed correctly except for how genuinely aghast you looked. “No! He's, I mean he's nice, I think, but I hardly know him and we don’t really talk that much.”

“Are they paying you? Are you getting a reward?”

“No, not that I've been told.”

“So why are you doing it?”

He could tell he was making you nervous. You jammed your hands into your pockets and hunched your shoulders, looking away and back again as if by conscious effort. “I don't know how to answer that differently. Steve said you needed help.”

“You live in a prison state where you're always being watched and no one trusts you. You’re wearing yourself out every time you try to slog through my head. I could have killed you when I went off the other day. So why do you insist on staying?”

“Because I want you to be better.”

“That's not enough.”

“Enough for what?”

“Enough of a reason.”

Your shoulders dropped incrementally. “Mr. Barnes, you are more than enough.”

“It's Bucky. You've been in my head. I think we can drop the formality.”

“Bucky,” you tested, and didn’t seem quite comfortable. “I don’t know what else I can tell you. I don’t like seeing people suffer.”

“Nobody does something for nothing.”

“Your best friend saves the world on the reg, and all he got in return was a place on the U.N.’s most wanted list.”

“Steve is different.”

You’d gone from being anxious to sad in an impressively short stretch of time. “He is. But I'd hazard that most people are different, at least in comparison to what you've experienced for the last however many years.”

Bucky didn’t answer immediately, thinking back to when his friend had said something similar after that disastrous first foray into his mind. “You sure you’re not in love with Steve?”

“Please don’t say things like that, Mr. B-Bucky,” you quickly course corrected, even in the midst of you embarrassed twitchiness, while you shot a glance at the nearest camera. “What if that gets back to him?”

“The cameras are muted. Not that there's anyone there to hear anyway."

Your shifting eyes focused back on him as your brow furrowed. “What?”

“Shuri cleared the security room and is guarding the door so no one can get in.”

"Why would she do that?"

"Because I asked her to."

“Why?” You pressed your elbows closer to your sides, curling inwards much the same as the first day he saw you. A part of him wondered if you thought he'd come to attack you, but by now he was fairly certain that was your automatic response to any unexpected stimulus. 

“Because I want answers. I want to know why you're so determined to do this. I want to know what you get out of it. I want-"

“Stop!” Your eyes were wide and bright and full of fear. He'd deliberately stalked into your space until you jolted back, rattling the empty pan on the stove’s unlit burner. You'd yanked your hands from your pockets and put them behind your head, shooting furtive glances between him and the camera, as if fearing reprimand even knowing no one was there to act as witness. “Mr. Barnes, please back up.”

He didn’t, though it felt a little like bullying a baby bunny. You were blatantly terrified, but not because of him, or not entirely because of him, or not specifically because of him. You didn’t fear him because he was trained assassin 'the Winter Soldier'. You feared him because you feared all people to some degree. You feared him because he was human, which was something he hadn’t felt like for a very long time.

“Why are you helping me?”

Your body was almost shaking as you fought to control your fight or flight instincts, but you met his eyes without blinking. “Because I know a fraction of what it's like to not be at home in your own head, and I don’t want anyone else to ever feel that way.”

The silence made the air between you thick, like trying to breathe through jello. Your eyes were darting around his face, either trying to read him or trying to keep from dropping your gaze to the floor as was your habit. He couldn’t figure out if he wanted to trust you or wanted to _not_ trust you, and he knew either propensity would affect how he interpreted this situation. He was suddenly struck with the realization that what he wanted didn't matter anymore – he did trust you, despite all his best efforts. He could puff up all he wanted, try to maintain his defenses, but how can one maintain what's already gone? 

So what should happen next?

“Do it now.”

“What?” Your confusion wasn’t surprising, because even he hadn’t anticipated his speaking.

“Find the trigger words now, when there’s no one else around and no extra pressure.”

“We can't. There's nothing here to monitor my progress or what I've changed. There’s no oversight. Even you being here without a full team monitoring our interaction is a major breach of protocol. How can you even consider-"

“I trust you,” he gave voice to his previous thought for the first time. The admission should have made him feel vulnerable, but all he felt was an unfamiliar calm at the statement's truth.

You, however, seemed the opposite of calm, and you still hadn’t lowered your arms. “That's… look, Mr. Barnes-"

“Bucky.”

“Fine, Bucky, we should wait until we're in a more controlled environment. What I do isn't an exact science, and if I mess up-”

“You won’t.” He could tell you were getting frustrated with his constant interruptions, but he needed to secure your compliance before he lost his nerve. “I believe you can do it. I won’t fight you this time.”

Your expression was almost distraught as you shot one more look at the camera. Slowly you lowered your hands to grip the edge of the stove. “All right. If it's really what you want, we'll give it a shot.”

The walk to one of the palace's many sitting rooms seemed drastically longer than it really was, and he could feel his bravado fading with each step. He hadn't seen inside his mind since you called the break, but he was certain no improvements had occurred. Now the two of you would be venturing in completely unsupervised without anyone to pull you out if things went too far.

He selected a small couch and you settled in next to him, angled to face him with your legs curled under you body. You were way out of bounds now – he wasn’t even sure this room held a camera. He saw the corner of your mouth pinch where you bit the inside before saying, “Just… try to stay calm and focus on the memory of when the trigger was implanted. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Ready?”

No. “Yes.”

Your fingers were cold this time when they pressed to his temples. Maybe he should have let you make that hot chocolate first. Then he became distracted by the familiar tumultuous swirling of his mind. His breathing picked up as he began to feel overwhelmed, the sheer scope of unrest becoming oppressive. He wanted to call out for help, say he changed his mind, but then an alien thread began to weave through the chaotic tapestry surrounding him.

_Focus._

_Calm._

_Breathe._

_Just find one._

One. One memory. Just the one wherein resided the trigger words that could suppress his free will like a wet blanket. He didn’t have to deal with the rest of it right now. Just the one.

Everything came to a halt so abruptly it was nauseating. The never-ending swirls of memory had been replaced with a dim room. He stood off to the side, staring at himself strapped to a chair. There was a balding man nearby, twisting a golden ring around his finger and speaking monotonously, almost to the point of being soothing. Another man observed the proceedings, occasionally making notes. Armed guards stood by the door, watching without apparent interest.

“Is it that man?” you spoke quietly from Bucky's side, and he couldn’t be sure whether you'd been there the whole time or just appeared. “The one with the ring?”

“Yeah.” Bucky swallowed. He wasn’t handling seeing his own unnaturally blank expression very well. “He's some kind of doctor they found during the war. He specializes in hypnotism.”

“Really? Hypnotism? I expected something, I don’t know, more scientific.” You took a step forward and turned to face him (the present him), blocking his view of himself (the past him). Your hands were in your jacket pockets, even here. “How do you want to handle this?”

“What do you mean? You're the expert here. Can’t you just stop the words from working?”

“Yes, but there are a few different ways we can do that. Do you want the memory erased entirely?”

Bucky took the time to mull it over, eyes wandering the room again. “What's that like?”

“You'll have a big blank space where this would be. Other memories connected to this will be affected – most won’t make sense anymore.”

How far reaching would that be? Most of his life had been dictated by this experience. Almost nothing would make sense without it. Even as terrible as all those memories were, not understanding them would be even worse.

“Is there a way you can leave the memory and only disable the words?”

“Are you sure that's what you want?” You were keeping your expression deliberately neutral, and he appreciated that you were giving him the choice.

“Yeah, I think… yeah. Memories make us who we are, right? Good and bad. Even if who we are is nothing to be proud of, maybe it's better to accept the past and move on. It's not like I can change it.”

“No, but it can change you.” You looked away from his conscious form to the memory of his body sitting rigidly. “I think choosing to remember this takes a strength of character you are unable to see in yourself. If you need something to be proud of, this is a good place to start.”

Something shifted in the air, but it still took a moment for Bucky to identify the change. He could still see the man speaking, but he could no longer hear the words being said. Silence had fallen over the whole scene, like someone had pressed mute.

“You'll remember that trigger words were implanted,” your voice was suddenly so loud, “but you won’t remember what they were. Even if you are reminded, they won’t apply in this context anymore. This should nullify their ability to control you. You should have that tested, of course, but I’m reasonably certain this will be a permanent solution to your problem.”

“That's it?”

“That's it.” You smiled up at him, a true, warm smile without any anxiety to warp the edges. “You are now free to move about your life.”

Steve was understandably confused, and rather vexed, when he found Bucky still sitting on the couch the next morning, staring at nothing in particular with his arm wrapped around you as you slept curled against his side. The captain had gone looking for his friend and was met with empty rooms and no clues to his whereabouts, until he’d run into Shuri who sent him this direction. Before he could work out a question, however, Bucky spoke up. “Hey, Steve, you’ve got all those words memorized, right?” Bucky barely gave him a chance to respond before continuing. “Say them now.”

“Buck, that’s not a good idea. This isn’t a secure area-”

“Just do it, Steve. Trust me.”

Steve’s jaw ticked as he considered Bucky, who still had yet to look at him. With a deeply felt sigh, Steve acceded and began the list. He watched his friend carefully for any type of reaction, prepared to stop immediately at the first sign of distress, but Bucky hadn’t even flinched by the time the Russian words for ‘freight car’ faded from the air. The silence was tense for a few beats before Bucky looked up at Steve with a smile full of something like wonder.

“She did it,” he breathed, then looked down at the top of your head nestled into his chest. “She actually did it.”

Steve, of course, required a full explanation. He was upset that Bucky had taken such a big risk by circumventing safety procedures, but fortunately he didn’t insist on immediately locking you in your room. Bucky had found you already unconscious after exiting his memories, and didn’t want to disturb your much-needed rest.

Still, the procedure had to be followed, and too soon for his liking you were relocated, still groggy but with your usual accommodating manner. He ran through the gamut of tests until enough people were convinced that only a small part of his hippocampus had been altered. He wasn’t certain, but he had a hunch Shuri had received a thorough scolding for her own part in his half-baked scheme. Even so, she patted him affectionately and congratulated his recovery. Then she made some kind of implication involving you which he chose to ignore.

He went in search of you as soon as they released him, even managing to ditch Steve with some effort. He thought for sure you'd be in your room, but his knock went unanswered. Eventually he tracked you down to a nearby hillside. Your guard stood a short distance away, but even she appeared much more at ease than in previous encounters.

You smiled at his approach, hands in pockets but shoulders down and elbows loose. “Hi Mr… Bucky. Sorry, I’m trying to remember. How are you feeling?”

“Good.” His own lips quirked at how relaxed you looked. “Thanks to you.”

Now you ducked your head, cheeks obtaining a rosy hue that had nothing to do with the sunshiny weather. “I’m glad I could help.”

A pause stretched into a silence as he tried to figure out what to say next. He didn’t know why he thought this would suddenly be easy. “What are you going to do now?”

The rest of Bucky's therapy would be of a more traditional track, he'd been told, with a trained psychiatrist and not a superhuman electrical engineer.

“Um, I’m not really sure. Steve said something about helping me get set up somewhere new. You know, somewhere I haven’t made a mess of things yet?”

“This is somewhere new.” The words were out before he could stop them. He hadn’t meant to jump into his proposal so suddenly, but he thought he could note a hint of wistfulness as you looked out over the rolling plains surrounding you.

Your smile was still pleasant, though now a little confused. “What?”

“You could stay here.”

“Stay here?” you asked as if the concept was hard to grasp.

“You like it, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but that's not a very good reason to keep imposing of T’Challa's generosity.”

“I want you to stay.” That probably wasn’t a very good reason either, but it was the only thing that came to mind.

“Why?” You seemed genuinely curious, and he found looking at you to be increasingly more difficult.

He let out a slow exhale, channeling some kind of calm, and forced his eyes back to you. “You said you don't feel at home in your own head. Well, you gave me mine back, so I'd like to return the favor. Or at least try to help. I am uniquely equipped for the job.”

He offered his gleaming left hand and watched you lean away, though you didn’t step back. He could practically read your whirring thoughts on your face as you stared at his hand, and he wondered how he could ever have suspected someone who wore their emotions so openly of hiding ulterior motives. Hesitantly, you reached your own hand for his, first only your fingertips to the smooth palm, and then more fully, readjusting so you could wrap your fingers around its breadth.

“It's kind of rude, isn’t it?” Your voice was quiet, and he could feel a slight tremor in your touch, but your eyes were shining when you met his. “Inviting myself to move in?”

For once his smile came easily, and he had to consciously keep his grip from tightening. Hydra had taken everything from him, but now… he had his best friend back, his free will, and you, whatever it was you were going to be. Maybe he could help you overcome some of your anxiety. Maybe he could simply give you a reason to feel comfortable. Maybe he could just be the one person you could touch freely, if only a little. He had a lot of maybes, and for the first time in a long time, at least 80% of them weren’t so scary.

“Nah,” he answered, looking out over the vast landscape, golden in the afternoon sun. “I think there's enough room for one more.”


	2. Something for Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day late and five years later.

Bucky could easily remember his last day with you. Unsurprising, considering for him only a single day had passed. He was still getting used to that idea – knowing that you’d be five years ahead of him and not the person he remembered from his yesterday.

Especially considering Steve’s uneasiness. Bucky's first words to his friend after the dust had settled were, “Where is she?”

“She’s safe. She didn’t get taken by the Snap.”

“Where?”

“Montana.”

“How soon can we get there?”

“Bucky-"

“How soon?”

“Buck, there’s something you need to see first.”

He didn’t want to see the security footage from the day of the Wakanda attack. He didn’t know for sure what had happened, only that Vision had been forced out. Of a window. He hoped, as the video keyed up, that you’d found somewhere safe to lock yourself away and only come out after Steve showed up to get you, as he’d promised he would if something happened to Bucky.

Not that promises meant a whole lot. Bucky hadn’t kept his, after all.

The day had started out so normal, as normal as any or your days together were. The two of you were bailing alfalfa for your goats (he was raising goats, who would have thought?), and he might have been a little loose with his accuracy.

“You wanna watch where you’re chucking that?”

Bucky looked up at your complaint to see you brushing errant bits of hay from your sleeve. He kept his expression carefully blank even as he wanted to grin at how cute you looked when you got fussy. “Why are you standing where I’m chucking?”

“Excuse me, my standing predates your chucking.”

“Maybe.” He lobbed another bale over your head, failed to keep his smile down as you were covered with loose bits. “Maybe not.”

“Okay, that’s it.” 

Thus began that day’s hay fight. Eventually, you crawled halfway over top of him in an attempt to shove a handful down the back of his shirt, and he pulled you down and held you firmly against his chest. Then the Moment came. He was very familiar with the Moment. His arms around you, your faces very close, the obvious conclusion hanging in the air. He leaned forward a few inches. You leaned back.

“Bucky, we can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You know.”

“I forgot. It must be a pretty lousy argument.”

Slowly you extract yourself and he lets you. You drop your hay and shove your hands in your pockets only to pull out more handfuls of hay. You don’t look at him. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to control it if we… if I get distracted.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, but he knew he was obviously smirking when you looked up at his face and scowled.

“This is serious! If I’m not in control I could do major damage. I could erase something important. I could put you in a coma. I could wipe out everything, and trust me, those results aren’t pretty.”

Once in a while you’d hint at an accident that had resulted in such disastrous consequences. You never elaborated and he never pried. 

“If I can trust you, why can’t you trust yourself?”

“Because you don’t really know.”

That had been the end of the argument, because that was when T’Challa had made his appearance. 

“Where’s the fight?”

“On its way.”

You laced your fingers through his, the metal ones, but he didn’t need a direct connection to your mind to know how scared you were. He tried to talk you into getting on a jet and leaving until the battle was over, but you refused. What was the point? If the threat was as big as they said, would anywhere really be safe? And you couldn’t leave as long as there was a chance you could help.

Regardless of the circumstances, Bucky was pleased to see Steve, even this much furrier version. When Steve asked after you, Bucky told him you were already with Shuri in the lab.

“Figured it be easier with all the…” he gestured vaguely at the group of new and unfamiliar people, and Steve nodded. “But more importantly, what’s that thing on your face?”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Hey, we live in a hut. What’s your excuse?”

“ _‘We?’_ You got a special friend there, robocop?”

Steve smirked in a way that said ‘karma, right?’ and left him to fend off Sam's teasing questions on his own. 

You’d stopped by one last time before he’d left for the front lines, following Steve and the others down but lingering in the doorway so as not to be seen by the others. You must have been at your limit for meeting new people. He stepped in to stand as close as you’d let him, which was actually pretty close this time, and you reached for his metal hand.

“I’m going to help Shuri remove the Soul Stone so it can be destroyed.”

“If anyone can do it, it’s the two of you.”

“I figured you’d still be mad at me for not leaving.”

“I was never mad. Scared to hell, but I can’t be mad at you for being brave.”

“What about stupid?”

“You’re too smart to be stupid. So don’t do anything stupid. If trouble comes, you get out any way you can.”

“I need you to…” You paused to swallow when your voice got wet, staring fixedly at his chest. He could feel your hand trembling in his. “I need you to come back. I don’t know how to do this without you anymore. I won’t be okay if you don’t come back, so you have to. Promise?”

He tugged you forward and wrapped his flesh arm around your waist. He pressed his face to the top of your head before you could stop him. Nothing happed, so he wondered if your hair counted as a barrier between direct contact. Then he felt your free fingers curl into the fabric at his waist as your whole body shuddered.

“Promise?” you repeated, sounding so small.

“I will always come back for you.”

But he hadn’t, not for five years, and now he was wasting even more time watching a cleanly-shaven Steve pull up a video file on a laptop.

The quality was really good, which is to be expected of anything coming out of Wakanda. This meant that he could see you in vivid detail, working alongside Shuri with some kind of incomprehensible holographic display. He saw you both turn at the sound of a shout. You froze, eyes wide with horror as Shuri desperately tried to complete whatever she was doing. Seconds later she swiped the whole thing away and turned once more to blast at whatever was coming. She shoved you into the railing and tried to kick out at the unseen assailant. Then she, her attacker, and the Dora Milaje all tumbled to the floor below. When Vision tackled the man out the window, you were still crouched on the platform staring.

You managed to shake yourself free and ran down to check on the fallen women. You rearranged them to lay more naturally, likely just trying to find some way to help. Then Bucky felt his whole body seize up when three of the bloodthirsty alien creatures he had fought for so long swarmed into the room. He knew Steve said you were fine and living in Montana, but a part of him still felt like he was about to watch you die.

You did one of the stupid things he’d absolutely forbidden – you yelled to draw their attention away from the unconscious women. You seemed to realize you had no way to defend yourself only as your back hit the nearest wall. In no time they were upon you, one pining you down and the others climbing over it, searching for flesh. In an effort to keep the teeth away, you pushed at its head with both hands.

Your bare hands.

Longer than he expected passed before the creature stilled. Maybe your powers weren’t as effective against an alien monster, or maybe you’d held off on using them because of your honor code he still didn’t fully understand. Then the monster turned on his comrades and began tearing them to shreds. It was grotesque, bits of alien flying everywhere. You remained curled in the corner with your hands over your head.

And that’s how you stayed even after all three creatures lay dead, how you stayed when Shuri and the other woman turned to dust, how you stayed until Steve appeared to find you huddled and shaking and splattered with goo.

He watched Steve kneel down and place a gentle hand on your shoulder. You jerked away, swinging your arms wildly. It took almost a minute of Steve calling reassurances before you could be calmed. Even when you had recognized him, you still shied away from his touch. Now Bucky could see the full extent of the damage you’d taken, torn clothes and skin stained red with your blood and blue with theirs. But most disturbing were your eyes. There he could see the most damage done, reflected in the vacant, wild look that lingered until Steve convinced you to get up and led you out of the frame. The video feed cut off.

“She’s not been the same since, Buck.”

Well, who would be?

“She didn’t take it well when we told her you were gone. She just shut down completely.”

He’d said he’d come back, and then he didn’t. 

“We got her set up in a cabin away from anyone who could bother her.”

Self-imposed isolation. That sounded like you.

“I stop out there about once a month with groceries, but she hardly even talks to me.”

At least you were eating.

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t go see her. I just want you to be prepared for the worst.”

No problem. He’d been prepared for the worst since they’d first sent him off to war back when Nazis were their biggest worry. That way, whenever anything good happened he’d be pleasantly surprised. You’d been the most surprising thing to happen in a long time. He wasn’t about to give up on you now.

Bucky didn’t ask where Steve had gotten this clunker of a truck. He didn’t care what form the transportation took as long as it was headed in the right direction. He turned his face to the breeze coming in through the window and tried to sort out what he was going to say.

He still hadn’t figured it out when the truck pulled to stop in a cloud of dust right before the front porch of a small log cabin.

“You’re early,” a familiar voice called when they stepped through the front door. His heart clenched and tried to weasel into his throat. “You shouldn’t be here for another week and a half…” 

Your sentence faded out as you rounded a corner and caught sight of him. You stared, he stared. Steve awkwardly stood at his side. Then your voice, hardly more than a whisper, “Bucky?”

“Yeah… it’s me.”

Hours in a truck that didn’t get radio, and that was all he could manage.

Your eyes darted to Steve who nodded. “It’s him.”

“How? You…” you paused, a large range of emotions flitting across your face in quick succession. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Well, that’s not the kind of welcome he was expecting.

Steve said your name in a pleading tone, but you cut him off with a shake of your head. “No, no, he shouldn’t… you both need to go. Right now.”

You crossed your arms as if to keep warmth from escaping, and that’s when Bucky noticed your hands. The gloves. When he’d finally asked, when it had been just the two of you in a hut in Wakanda, you’d said you didn’t wear them because you missed the feel of things. Then you’d run your fingertips over his metal palm as if to prove it.

“Steve, can you give us a minute?”

Steve nodded again, took one last look at your panicking face, and disappeared back out the front door. You watched him go like he’d been your last hope.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky blurted. Your wide-eyed stare didn’t falter. “For taking so long to come back like I promised.”

“You couldn’t help it. But really, Bucky, you shouldn’t-"

At least you hadn’t gone back to calling him Mr. Barnes. “You have no idea how good it is to see you. Not knowing if you were okay was driving me crazy. You know better than anyone that I don’t need any extra help in that department.”

You closed your eyes like he’d hit you. “Don’t.”

“And you’ve got five years on me. That’s a pretty big head start. It’s going to take me awhile to catch up.”

“Please.”

“Not to complain, but I was kind of expecting a more enthusiastic greeting. Thought you mighta missed me a little.”

“I can't… Bucky, of course I missed you. I missed you more than anything.” You said it with such finality, such certainty, as if this truth should be obvious to the point that saying it out loud was redundant. Bucky smiled, but your eyes were still closed and even across the room he could track a tear as it fell down your cheek. He took a single step, and a command cracked out over the space. “ _Don’t_.”

A coffee table, a rug, a couch, and a lamp stood between you two, but it felt like a giant, insurmountable wall. “Why not?”

“Because… because I’m dangerous.”

“Since when?”

“Since I took a fish oil pill and became a freak! I’ve been a monster this whole time and thought if I pretended I wasn’t I could escape it. But I was wrong, really, really wrong.”

“You’re not a monster.”

“I am! You don’t know-"

“I saw the security tape. I know what happened in the lab.”

He took another step forward, and your face hardened into a glare. “I said _don’t_.”

“Is that why you’re wearing gloves now? Because you think you did something horrible? Do I have to remind you what you said to me when I thought everything I did made me worthless?”

“That’s not the same. You never had a choice. I did.”

“You protected yourself, and probably Shuri and the other woman, too. What do you think would have happened to them after those things finished with you?”

You looked away. “I used what I can do to make another living thing die on my behalf. I cannot start making excuses or there’s no telling what I’ll find a way to justify.”

“Those things were going to kill you. You don’t need to justify that. They were the monsters, not you.”

“They were only monsters because Thanos made them that way.” You looked back at him to catch his blank expression. “I saw into its mind for a few seconds, but it was enough. They weren’t natural – one of Thanos's minions made them. He gave them one purpose, and then kept them locked up and starving until they got worked into a frenzy. They didn’t choose their life anymore than you did. And I used it, just like Thanos, just like…”

Just like Hydra.

This time he did not heed your warnings as he crossed the room and rounded the couch. You moved sideways away from him until you hit a wall. Then you threw your hands up as if to ward him off, much like you’d done back in Wakanda when he was letting you have it for saying he deserved help.

Now he just had to convince you that you deserved the same.

“You are _nothing_ like the men who hurt me. They were selfish and arrogant and only cared about getting what they wanted. You care about everyone and everything except yourself. You could never be like them.”

“Just because my intentions might have been better doesn’t change what I did. The road to hell-"

“I don’t care what the road to hell is paved with. If that’s where you’re headed, then you're in good company, because if you’re not good enough to make it out then none of us are.”

Your hands still hung in midair so he snatched one before you could pull away. Even as you protested and struggled he began to peel your glove away a finger at a time.

“You are kind and giving and caring and generous and strong and brave and smart and beautiful-" Okay, he was getting off track here. “You do not deserve this punishment you’re forcing on yourself. You are not a monster. You are a good person, and I know you would never hurt anyone. Please stop hurting yourself.”

He dropped the glove and pressed your naked hand to his cheek. You’d given up trying to pull away, though now you were openly crying.

“You’re biased. You only think those things because-"

“I love you?”

“No!” The word came out on a sob.

“‘No’ that’s not why or ‘no’ I don’t love you? Because I’ve known I do for about a year.”

His year, not yours. It was so much longer for you.

“Bucky, you can't. I'm not…”

“I can and you are. This thing you’re so afraid of saved my life. It’s no different than this.” He held up his metal hand and flexed his fingers. “We both have parts of ourselves we’re not proud of, but you’re the one who told me that we decide whether to make them good, and I think we’ll both have a lot better luck figuring that out if we do it together.”

“How can you trust me? If you saw what I did, how can you possibly trust me?”

“Because you earned it, every day since we met. You earned it when you stayed to help a grumpy old man who tried to fight you every step of the way. You earned it when you gave me my life back and then someone to share it with. You can finally stop proving yourself.”

“What if I lose control? What if I can’t stop myself and I hurt someone?”

“You’ve been touching me this whole time, and you haven’t hopped in my head once. I’d say you’ve got a pretty good handle on it.”

“For now. It might not always be like this.”

“And I can’t say I’ll never crush a few kitchen utensils. We’ll work it out as we go.”

“Are you sure?” You lifted your other hand to his face. The glove was soft, but not nearly as good as your bare skin. “You’re not just saying this because you think you’re supposed to? Because I’m too fragile and you’re afraid to break me?”

“I spent decades doing what I was ‘supposed' to. Now I’m all about doing what I want.”

“And you want me?” Your face, which was already blotchy from crying, flushed completely. “No, wait, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded!”

Bucky felt a positively rakish grin take over his face. “Really? ‘Cause I was liking the way it sounded."

“No! No, no, no. This is a really bad direction to take this conversation.”

“Hey, you brought it up. I’m just interested in the possibilities.”

“Well, well… stop. Being interested. My palm is getting sweaty and it’s still on your face.”

He turned his face to the one still in his grip and pressed a kiss there. “Eh, not too bad yet.”

“Bucky, we should really p-pump the breaks here.”

“I’ve got a better idea.”

“Wait, Bucky, Bucky, no-"

Useful note: you couldn’t talk when your mouth was busy.

For a few blissful seconds the entire world was narrowed to his lips pressing against yours. Then it expanded into a whirlwind of colors and sensations. He couldn’t tell if this was your mind or his or some shared combination between you. There was an overwhelming mash up of thoughts and feelings, his and yours, feeding off each other, back and forth, until he couldn’t tell exactly whose were what where.

“Oh!” You jerked back and blinked at him several times. Then you rather distractingly ran your tongue over your bottom lip. “That was new.”

“Bad?”

“No… good, I think. Really good.” Your daze seemed to condense a little into concern. “Are you okay? Your brain still all in one piece?”

He let his eyes drift upwards for a moment, tried to look like he was really thinking about it. “As much as it was before, anyway. Still semi-stable as far as I can tell.”

“Good. That's… good.” You smiled, a small, hesitant smile, but a real, true one, and Bucky felt his heart give an extra enthusiastic beat.

“You up for further experimentation?”

“Um, I mean… Steve is still on the front porch.” The smile didn’t fade, though it did get a little shy.

“He’s probably wandered off by now. Besides, he’s used to it.”

“Okay, that just makes me feel worse. We should invite him in, or at least tell him he can leave or something.”

“I vote for the second one.”

“Of course you do. No, we can't.” Your eyes dropped to his mouth again and he could stop the smirk. You seemed to give yourself a shake and repeated, “We can't. He drove all this way. We should at least feed him first.”

You pulled your hands away from his face, though he refused to relinquish the one he held. Then, unexpectedly you rose up on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. You stayed there for a few seconds, and then whispered, “I love you, too,” through his beard and straight into his skin.

When your heels dropped to the floor and you met his eyes, he was a little afraid you might pick up on the increased moisture there, but mostly he was too busy wondering how his heart could be so full and hot and still keep beating. “Good,” he said as he began working your other glove off. “I was hoping you did.”


End file.
